


The five stages of healing

by Rakshadaemon



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Addiction, Depression, Family, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Love, Medical Trauma, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 05:12:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10236635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rakshadaemon/pseuds/Rakshadaemon
Summary: After the end of the Third War, the Sin'dorei magisters go out searching for alternative ways of filling the newfound emptiness given by their mana addiction. After his failure to negotiate with the Highborn of Eldre'Thalas, Grand Enchanter Soranis Sunshadow finds himself at a loss in more ways than one.





	1. Stage one - Denial

**Stage one - Denial**

 

 

          I'm drenched and cold but somehow, my bones are still on fire. I need to keep going. Just put one foot in front of the other. Put one shaky foot, then the other, just to keep going…on…

Gusts of wind and ice cold tempest hit me mercilessly. I can't seem to understand what I'm looking at. All I know is that I must keep going. Somehow it's dark outside, a perpetual haze follows my sight and I've lost track of time. The world is spinning around me while the violent cold rain beats me down. My hands are useless with all the shaking. I can't think straight, can't find a way… I'm lost.

          Sun help me I'm so lost…

Nothing makes the shaking stop; nothing stops the burning hunger, the emptiness. Where am I going? Why am I doing this, what is the point? What is … that noise?

I turn towards the crackling I thought I heard in the distance but I can't make out anything anymore.

          "Who's there?" I shout at the haze surrounding me. "I wouldn't sneak up on me if I were you!" Although my rickety voice is not very convincing, my hand starts glowing in a purple hew, the arcane manifesting itself reluctantly at my command. With nerves on edge and gritting teeth, I am primed to face my assailant. What I'm not prepared for is the underbrush tangling itself on my drenched robes with gangly branches that eagerly reach out for me. I try to free myself to no avail, the more I fight the harder it grabs for my hair. With all that is left of my strength I push the thing away, or rather, push myself away from it which sends me crashing down the slope but not before my leg makes a sickly snap.

After tumbling and skidding on the mud sodden slope I hit rock bottom. Darkness envelops me.

 

 

*

*      *

 

 

           I've always loved the smell of petrichor, the smell of earth and rain combined. Autumn rains are my favorite, or maybe summer rains. Hmm, I don't know, rain is nice either way. It makes the plants so happy. Speaking of plants, why is it so hard to find the perfect Earthroot? It has to be the right age for the hoof balm to work. Eh, I don't mind either way, who doesn't love the chance to stretch his legs once in a while? At one with nature, I am truly at peace here.

           Maybe I should look under pine trees; I mean that's where they usually grow. There's a patch of trees over there in the distance, by the mountain side. I wonder if I'll get lucky.

Climbing the slope towards hopefully a big batch of juicy, ripe Earthroots I notice a beautiful family of striders casually wandering about. What a nice little family. Oh, but what is that? Than little stranger has feathers, bright red feathers huh! You don't see that every day. The others don't seem to like him much. The poor fellow must be an outcast because of his pretty plumage. I hope he'll manage to make friends. Loneliness is hard on a bird. Should I get them acquainted? Nah, Nurisipa insists I let nature take its course, though that is one beautiful strider.

            All of a sudden a piercing screech reaches my ears from somewhere up the hillside. I wonder, what that could be? Maybe it's a poor creature trapped in one of those vile contraptions that the Palemane poachers keep setting around? Poor thing, I better go have a looksee…

There it is, the screeching again, poor, poor distressed little thing. I better hurry and help it.

          As I get to the top of the incline I notice a swirling bunch of red garbs assaulting a bush. The bush seems to be winning. Now that I've gotten a little closer to the commotion, the poor soul battling the brambles must be some sort of night elf although I've never seen one this runty and pink before. He seems distraught, maybe I should go offer my assistance.

          A loud boom and a purple flash later and the miserable thing goes flailing through the air like a ragdoll before landing on its face and rolling down the hill in a heap. I hope he isn't hurt, I should investigate.

Once I reach the ditch at the bottom of the hillside I finally get a good look at the vicious bush assaulter. He's so pale, that can't be right. I've never seen a night-elf this short before. Maybe he's afflicted by some sort of illness.

His clothes are fine but worn and wet, all plastered to his lithe figure. Long, black hair all messy, sodden and spread all over the place sticks to its angular face. I'm sure it's male though, night elf women don't have facial hair, not that I know of anyway. His breathing is strenuous, and now that I get a better look at him, he's even paler than before, also… unconscious. I've never seen someone in a coma jitter that much before, he must be freezing, although it's not that cold outside or maybe it's just me, ahh the benefits of fur. I should take him with me. I'm sure Nurisipa won't mind another mouth at the table; she cooks a little bit extra anyway. The chap looks like he needs a warm meal in his belly.

As I gather him up in my arms I notice he weighs next to nothing. What sort of dire illness could have reduced him to such a state? I better rush home so I fling his wispy frame on my shoulder and head on back to Bloodhoof Village.

 

 

*

*     *

 

 

          The storm outside is sure testing out our new tent. So far not even a single drop managed to get through. Chaw Stronghide's craftsmanship is amazing. I should make him a pie. Jolonel likes my pies, they may not be as good as Jhawna's but he loves mine better. I smile to myself. I love him better too. Mother Swiftsinger is milling corn in the back. This new tent is so much bigger; it'll be full with children's laughter in no time.

Speaking of my love, he's been off for some time now. I told him Earthroot is out of season. But noo, he went to look for it in this downpour. Trying to get out of sweeping duty I bet.

I can't find it in myself to be upset though. Thinking of him, and there he is, lugging some sort of wounded creature again. He's such a softy, this husband of mine.

          "How many times do I have to tell you love? The wolves need to eat too dear. You can't help every sickly strider you find around!" I told him without lifting my gaze from the apples I've been chopping. Desert can't wait for anything you know.

          "It's not a bird this time honey" he said sounding worried. "This time it's a sickly night elf".

I turn around to see the damage. Lo and behold, my sweetheart is holding an indistinct bundle of crimson in his arms all wet and dripping on my freshly cleaned floor.

He heads off without a care in the world and deposits his burden in the baby hammock. The elf is so small now that I get a good look at him, he might be a Kal'dorei child lost in the woods that my dear husband found. But what would a child be doing all the way out here alone? And, huh, a bearded child… not a child then, just a runt…and so pink. Maybe it's a human elf hybrid of some sort, shunned by his peoples… I should stop listening to Wunna Darkmane's melodramatic fireside stories.

Mama Swiftsinger leaves the corn and comes closer as well.

          "Son, that's not a Kal'dorei. It's an elf from the other side of the world. They're smaller and pale, that's normal for them. I've seen some with the humans back in the war. This one seems ill though. He's got the shivers, a flu maybe." She looks the man over and gasps. " Jolonel, you've been lobbing this poor elf around like a sack of potatoes without a care for his swollen leg. What do I keep telling you about sprains and fractures?"

Jolonel's ears flatten as he answers in a low voice "Reduce the sprain or fracture and put a stilt as soon as possible" then he huffs. "I keep forgetting to do that. You know me mom; I'm woolly-headed in a crisis."

          "Nevermind that dear, let's just help the poor man."

My love and his mother go about their healing techniques. I'm no good with that sort of thing. The only way I can help is by making the food more consistent. The elf's aquiline face is more angular than it should be, betraying his state of malnourishment and neglect. His breathing is heavy and his skin is like ivory with sickly purple blotches. He is trembling ceaselessly.

I add more logs to the fire, that should warm up the place faster. A dry blanket wouldn't hurt either. Maybe I should change the stranger out of his drenched clothes. I think I have a spare shirt lying about here, somewhere…

 

 

*

*     *

 

 

          My eyelids are leaden and the shaking is so much worse, old bones rattling and grinding against each other. My head is pounding and the pain is excruciating.

The crystals! Where are the crystals?! I need them! Where!? I must have them now!

My skin is all sore and itchy, I can't help scratching madly away, the grating draws blood but the itching remains, I keep scratching fruitlessly.

I can't think straight anymore, I'm burning up. I need air. My throat is dry and the world is spinning. The haze has closed in on me.

Air, I need to get away from this place, wherever this is.

I reach out a jittery hand towards the wall to stop the world form whirling around me. It doesn't help, my stomach starts turning instead.

I dangle one foot out of the nest I find myself in but surely enough, it can hold no weight. A violent sharp pain shoots through my limb as I plummet to the hard floor with a bang. Agony radiates through my burning, quivering bones more vividly. A pained wail escapes through my treacherous mouth.

          A mountain of brown furs emerges from the side, it stands and moves my way. Hooves and horns coming towards me menacingly.

I try to scream a warning at it but nothing comes out of my parched throat. I won't let it end like this! I will not go down without a fight, even if I'm going down with it.

I summon all that is left in me, and swing it at the thing! My aim is off, the blaze I've summoned hits the wall instead. It spreads hungrily and the monster yelps! The wall catches fire and the thing starts palming the flames furiously as it screeches. Another fiend rises immediately, a gray horned beast. Its voice is low, almost silent comparing to the brown thing, hissing from time to time and then, I hear massive hooves from behind. The greatest beast of all, black and threatening, it looms in front of me and grabs my hand. My strength is like that of a child comparing to the lumbering monster. Its grip is like a vice of unmovable stone against my aching wrists. I can't move and magic doesn't answer anymore. "Let go of me demon!"

I struggle against it fruitlessly kicking at it with my good foot and trying to bite the thing's massive fingers. Then I feel it, the magic in this beast sings to me, like a drop of water in the parched desert, like a storm in the distance, it calls to me and I meet it half way. The effect is instantaneous; the swirling confusion that is my thoughts subsides. The pounding stops. My bones sit still for once. The haze lifts itself and I can see and hear clearly for once. The emptiness is not abated though, it calls for more, Sun have mercy but I need more... The first few drops become a stream, then a river quenching the burning that had become my whole being.

          The creature yelps in shock and hurt and then I finally see it for what it is… a mere tauren. Shame and horror overwhelm me for what I have done. The connection is severed brusquely. Eternal Sun forgive me for the monster I have become.

The creature looks at me with gentle brown eyes and speaks slowly in a calm voice as he reaches down for what seems to be a sodden cloth. He tries to choke me with it and I can't find it in myself to put up any resistance. The world goes dark again.

 

*

*    *

 

 

          An hour worth of incantations and communing with the spirits and nothing! I don't see any improvement. It's like the body doesn't want to heal. My son's efforts don't seem to bare any fruit either. I'm at a loss. What are we missing?

          "Son, I think we've done all we can for now. I am spent. We should take a break and think on what we might be missing."

          "Yes mom, I feel our spells dissipating with no effect. I don't understand what I'm doing wrong here. You're right we should take a break. The food is getting cold."

Ah, my son and his stomach… I suppose he's right though. He has been wondering all day, he must be famished by now.

Sweet Nurisipa, quick thinker that she is, has changed the elf out of his wet clothes and in her maiden shirt to keep him warm. The elf looks lost in her chemise, like a child wearing a sack, a shoulder finding its way out of the collar. The sight would have been amusing under different circumstances but the bones protruding under the sickly skin are no laughing matter nor is the constant jittering. We move the crib closer to the fire.

          Nurisipa lays the food in neat bowls on the dining mat. The food may have gotten a bit lukewarm but it's still delicious. She does pour her heart out in everything she does. My son chose well.

The sound of scratching stops me mid-chew. The rats are at it again. I thought Jolo told them to leave. He wouldn't let me poison them. I'm sharing my house with rats now. Life is strange but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Nurisipa gets up and heads for the crib, the elf moved. A gangly leg is hanging off the side of the baby hammock then the whole thing plumps to the floor with a ragged squeak. He raises his head and looks our way, glazy green eyes looking somewhere off in the distance, hands like claws scratching at the floorboards. A jumble of dry, incoherent sounds comes out of his mouth. And then, out of a sudden a lick of flames envelops him then jumps at the wall behind Nurisipa. Her family motif is now ablaze.

          " Haaah! my mother's carpet! What have you done you rabid thing!?" She shrieks while trying to put the flames out with her hands and cloak.

          "Nurisipa, your scaring him, lower your voice dear." I tell her in as calm a tone as I can. " I think he's confused, Shhhhh! It's okay little one, calm down. You're safe here. We're friends".

She ignores me, the girl sure has a temper to her.

          " A sorcerer in my house, Joloneeeeel! Of all the things you could rescue, you had to find a damn rabid sorcerer in the rain! My mother's carpet is ruined! It's been passed down in my family for generations! How would you like it if my pets chewed your mother's totems huh!?" She said in an exasperated tone. The girl definitely has a strong pair of lungs on her.

My son managed to sneak near the frightened thing in the meantime and grabs him by the wrists gently but sternly and the elf wiggles and twists violently in his grasp shrieking. He tries to hit my son, and even bite at him in horror while my son lets him wear himself out. And then it happens… the strangest thing the room feels frozen. It feels like ice in my veins and from the looks of it, my son and daughter in law feel it too. Like all the warmth in the world was drained away at that very moment and my head starts to swirl.

          Jolonel gasps. And then, the elf's gaze becomes less glassy as he finally stares at my son. A look of shame replaces the instinctive horror on his face and the feeling stops.

My boy reaches down for a cloth in his pouch and dips it in a draught. "It's all right there buddy, time to go to sleep now. You'll feel better in the morning. I promise", Jolonel says then puts the cloth over the elf's face and the latter does nothing to stop him. He succumbs to the sleeping draught. In an instant, his limbs turn to mush and my son gently scoops him up and deposits him back in the crib then backs away with shoulders slumped and falls on his bottom by the wall, a hand to his head, rubbing his temples in circles.

          "You felt it too didn't you mom?" He asks in a strained voice.

          "What was that?" Nurisipa asks with a look of shock on her face.

          "I feel my spirit drained" I tell them.

The food lays forgotten on the mat in silence.

 

 

*

*     *

 

 

          Ouch my head. What in the world was that? I feel dizzy and tired all of a sudden. I should go lie down a bit.

He looked at me! He looked at me and not through me. Whatever he did, it helped him… Such a sad gaze in those big, almond shaped, green eyes… What in the world has he seen, what has driven him to such a state?

          What have I gotten myself into this time?

Nurisipa's wailing finally stops. She loved that carpet.

          "I'm so sorry honey, I know how much it meant for you." She sighs and walks over then drops besides me and I give her a hug ruffling her mane. She rests her head on my neck and sighs again.

          Mother gets up on shaky feet and walks over to the crib tucking the elf in furs. "I think you may have bitten off a bit more than you can chew this time son." She looks at me with a conflicted gaze and says "I think it's better that we keep him sedated for his own safety and ours until he's better. He doesn't seem to be aware of what he's doing. Nurisipa dear, the carpet was an accident. I'm sure he didn't mean too, he was just scared out of his mind" She looks to the side." I think we should take turns watching over him tonight. I wouldn't want him to have another panic attack unsupervised".

          Nurisipa nods."I'll take first shift. Whatever he did, it affected the both of you more than me. You should rest up mother… You too love. You look drained."

She lets go of me and walks over to the crib looking at the messy tangle of hair escaping the furs. "Hard to believe that such a small sickly thing can cause such a mess".

          I want to take first shift, my love looks tired too but I can't find it in myself to contradict her. My thoughts are all a mess so I give in. I'm heading to bed.


	2. Stage two - Anger

         I wake up to voices and the smell of freshly roast meat. When was the last time I ate any food, or drank for that matter? The hunger replaced all other needs.

         I turn towards my hosts as slowly and silently as I can. They are kneeling in the corner in a circle on a mat. There are bowls of steaming food and platters of roast on the floor. The big tauren, the black one dressed in furs and skins tinted green takes modest bits of food at a time and chews loudly apparently pondering what the grizzled female is saying. He swallows then answers then grabs another dainty piece. His bulk is almost concealed by his hunched posture. The massive bull turns his horned head towards the other figure in the room. Another female, this one brown with amber eyes and long braids to each side of her stocky head. He talks to her in such a loving voice. What is he saying I wonder? There was this spell I knew...Hmm…  Haven’t used that since the Amani incident a while back…

         Their hooting indistinguishable noises turn into words as the spell comes in place. I can understand them now.

          “So? when are you two youngsters planning on making me a grandmother huh?” The silvery one asks in an amused tone then winks at the brown one who lets out a hefty sigh and narrows her eyes at the old tauren.

The bull swallows brusquely and looks at the old matron then whines at her. “Mooom!”

The brown one chuckles and nudges the dark male. “Don’t tell me you don’t want to fill that crib with a baby of our own sweetheart?” she scratches him under the chin lovingly. “He or she would have my eyes and your gentle disposition.”

The big bull keeps chewing slowly as he raises one finger to her… and chews… and chews, then swallows slowly and answers. “So long as they get your pie making talents honeybear.”

 

         I’m feeling like a voyeur right now, intruding on these good people’s intimate discussion. A happy little family with plans for the future. Such warmth and peace… the last time I had that, the last meal with my wife…was about seven years ago I think. The sun beaming through the curtains shining on her immaculate strawberry blonde hair, my brilliant love, Stellaria in her blue and gold gown was plucking grapes and cheeses of a platter and with a delicate glass of wine in her other hand, her finger was playing with the rim… what were we discussing? Oh, I remember! We were disputing over various names for our newest grandchild… the smile on her plump rosy lips as she called out names for “him”. She thought we’d have another nephew, I teased her that it would be a niece this time. I never found out…

         “… whatever the elf did to you last night really drained you Jolonel, you slept like the dead” The brown female said in a concerned voice snapping me out of my reverie. Then I remembered… I remembered what a horrible old, decrepit hypocrite I am. Months I’ve argued with Rommath that draining living beings of mana is immoral, demons sure, but living beings, NO!  And look at me now! A savage, jittery beast slavering for a quick fix! It was easy to argue when my wealth provided a source to feed the addiction, but now, after months of searching for any alternative, after months of failure after failure I find myself humbled once more. Is there no end to it? Is there no limit to the depths that I’ve fallen?  I’ve figuratively and literally bitten the hand that saved me in a withdrawal induced haze like some freak. And these primitives, no, these people are still trying to help after what I did. Nothing will ever clear my disgrace away. I can’t find the words to express my remorse and shame and so, I stay silent and motionless like the coward that I am. I don’t deserve their compassion.

         “I think you need to replenish your energies son, have some more roast.” The bull nods and keeps chewing slowly while playing with one of the braids on the brown tauren. She nudges him affectionately.

         “Nurisipa dear” the silver mane says with a gentle voice.”  Go check on our little guest and see if he’s rousing. Genlty please, we don’t need to scare him again, we only have the one tent”.

         “Yes mother, I’ll see if I can get some food in his belly. He looked so gaunt when I changed him out of the wet clothes yesterday.”

Wait, what? I look down at myself and finally notice than I’m not dressed in my robes anymore. I’m wearing a yellowed chemise large enough to fit four of me with room to spare… I must look ridiculous. The large bussoms on the shirt reach down to my belly and the sleeves are long enough to reach my knees, what a sight I must be. I stifle a chuckle.

The brown one – Nurisipa, picks up a wooden bowl and fills it up with some kind of broth from the cauldron in the center of the tent then walks towards me.

         “Aaah! Awake are we?” The corners of her snout turn upwards in what appears to be a smile. “ And nothing’s on fire yet! Huzzah! See we can be civilized!” She says in a condescending tone. Really? This primitive is giving me lessons about civility? The nerve!

         “Aww look sweetheart, he’s pouting like a ruffled chick. So cute, you look all ruffled, yes you do!” I changed my mind, these people are idiots.

         “Here little elf, I brought you some soupey soup. It’s delicious.” She assaults me with a giant spoon. “come on, don’t be shy! Eat up! Look at you! You’re all skin and bones. My broth will put you on your feet in no time!” I will not be fed like an infant! What’s next? A diaper change?!?

         “Honeybear, you’re being a little overbearing. I think it is best you let him feed himself.” Thank you giant bull! Thank youuu!

The brown cow’s ears flatten against her stupid head and she looks abashed. “Oh, you’re right, I must be embarrassing the poor thing! It’s just that he’s so tiny.” Here lies Sorranis Sunshadow, Grand Enchanter of the Silvermoon Magisterium, Head Arcanist and also… tiny…

If any of my colleagues saw me like this I’d never live it down. I’d be the butt joke of Quel’thalas.

         Nurisipa lays the bowl on a makeshift table besides the hammock and backs away while keeping her honeyed gaze on me with an eager grin on her bovine face. “Come on, eat up, it’s getting cold.” She says in a sing song voice.

I frown at her, stop it woman! I’m a master of the arcane arts, not some bawling baby. Go away!

She sighs.  “Allright, allright. Let me give you some privacy.” 

All-merciful Sun! She finally gets it! At long last!

         As she leaves the room I find myself alone with the giant bull. The lumbering behemoth chews slowly and tries to pretend that he’s not paying attention to me.

 

 

*

*             *

 

 

          Hmm Nurisipa really likes to spice her food, who doesn’t like thyme in their food? Ahhh and the skin is so crispy. I sure like breakfast, best meal of the day is what I say.

 As I continue chewing on my food I take quick glances from time to time at the baby hammock. The elf’s head protrudes from the furs like a baby chick from under the hen’s wing.

          I see him reaching with a tentative scrawny hand towards the spoon, his fingers trembling chaotically. He frowns and seems to concentrate on the motion, almost like the gesture is foreign to him. With spoon in hand he reaches for the bowl, his arm gyrating wildly about. Could it be ataxia? Or some sort of fever in the brain? Perhaps an old spinal injury? If he were young I’d say it would be a congenital condition, but I’m not sure what age he is. It’s hard to tell with elves, even the old ones look really young.

As the elf tries to scoop up the soup, his fingers spasm and the spoon ends up flying. I see the look of frustration and irritation on his face. He then spazzes in a scratching fit clawing away at his arms. The sleeves are rolled away to reveal some sickly green sores on the pale skin of his forearms that he keeps scrabbling madly away at. Then our eyes meet, and in an instant the expression on his face is replaced by one of resignation. He huffs and buries himself deeper in the furs. I hold out a finger to him, let me finish chewing this last morsel and I’ll help I think to myself. No sense saying it since I don’t think he can understand me. Nurisipa’s prodding should have provoked some sort of reaction out of him. So I slush the food around in my mouth from side to side, slowly savoring every bit of flavor. It’s dangerous to swallow improperly chewed food, you could choke with it you know. Once it’s properly pasted I gulp it down then I get up to pick another wooden spoon to give to our patient.

 As I squat down to hand it over, he gingerly reaches out for it giving me a look of gratitude. He then concentrates on reaching out for the soup again, the effort seems to be monumental for him. I hope whatever ails him is not contagious or we’re all in trouble. Perhaps I should have thought about that sort of thing earlier…

 His jittering makes more than half a spoonful spill back into the bowl, his look of concentration being slowly replaced once more by one of defeat. The closer the spoon gets to his mouth the worse the shakes get, and the rest of the soup finds its way on my wife’s shirt. He attempts the gesture one more time but as soon as the spoon reaches the bowl he sighs and drops it, then retreats into the comfort of the furs.

           It pains me to see someone struggling so hard. I can’t help myself, I need to help him. “Are you sure you don’t want any help with that buddy?” I say to him as I gently poke him with a finger in hopes of getting his attention. He looks at me with dimly glowing green eyes. How can I make him understand that I’m trying to help him? I mimic the gesture of eating then point at him, point back at myself then point at him again. “Please let me help you. It breaks my heart to see you struggling this much.” The elf slowly blinks at me, looks to the side and nods his approval. I think we’re finally getting somewhere.         

          I help him up in a sitting position with one hand steadying him while gently offering scoops of soup with the other. The first gulp goes down with difficulty, so does the second one and by the fifth he signals me to stop. Apparently, he has had enough so I tuck him in and go outside to wash the bowl. That wasn’t nearly enough food. At this rate, he’ll starve.

 

 

*

*             *

 

 

          I should commune with the water spirits, see if I’ve somehow lost their favor. All of my effort last night bore no fruit. The elf was just as sickly today. I’ve done these incantations more times than I can remember without fail. I’ve never felt so out of sorts either.  

I gaze at the lake thinking about what I might need for the incantations tonight. The serenity of it is perturbed by the sharp giggles coming from my daughter in law who seems fascinated with the elf’s clothing.

          “Such a bright shade of red! It’s so pretty and look at the gold needle work! Sooo smooth” She touches the cloth with her jowl. Our guest must be of some import judging by his exquisite clothes. Some lost emissary perhaps?

I hear the heavy stomps of my son’s footfall. He’s holding the bowl of soup Nurisipa gave the elf earlier – it’s still mostly full. He empties it dejectedly and scratches the back of his head, where the left horn sprouts, in a nervous tick.

          “He doesn’t seem to get any better. Nothing we did helped mom.” Said my son sorrowfully then sighs.

          “The healing was arduous but he was coherent today, we must have done something right.” I muse. “Healing his body may not work because the burden he bares is an affliction of the spirit. Healing must be met half way by the recipient.”

          “That’s something that hasn’t occurred to me. He does seem longsuffering by the looks of it. I suppose you may have the right of it mom. What do you propose that we do? We need to help him faster. He may seem more coherent but he hasn’t been able to eat more than a few sips. At this rate, he’ll fade away before we figure out what to do.”

My dear son is miserable, his inability to help is eating away at him. He’s always been like that my sweet boy, always bringing broken birds home, or whatever hurt creature he found out in the woods. Helping’s always been a part of his nature.

          “What else is there to do my boy? We try our healing again, and tonight, I will commune with the ancestors to ask for their guidance. The spirits may hold the answers we seek.”

Jolonel nods grudgingly as he goes for his herb pouch.

          “I’ll see what I can do about the rash on his arms, those green pustules are worrisome. They must itch terribly if he feels the need to claw at his raw flesh like that. If nothing else, the numbing agent will make him a little more comfortable. It’s the least we can do for him. Were the sores there yesterday honeybear?”

          “Now that you mention it, yes, he did have some nasty looking boils on his arms and throat” Nurisipa walks to my son and reaches out to him comfortingly. “What do you think those are?”

With a heavy sigh and after some consideration, Jolonel answers: “I… don’t know. I haven’t seen that on anyone before”. My son gulps. “I sure hope it’s not contagious.”

Nurispia drops the robe like it’s on fire and with a ruffled tone she huffs: “Maybe you should have thought about that a bit earlier, don’t you think?” My son’s silly, sheepish smile defuses her, the goof…

 

          “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!” I tell them before they start speculating some more. “I’ll go check on him while you two deal with your herbs. I’ll try some more healing waves.”

Jolonel nods while going for his pestle and adds in with a low humm. “I’m willing to try anything right now.”

          “I’ll start chopping the silverleaf then.” said my daughter in law absentmindedly already concentrating on the task ahead.

I leave them to their potion making and head into the tent.

 

          The air inside is stuffy and the only noise is the seldom crackle of the flames and the occasional scratching sound coming from the crib.

I ought to grab my totems and incense from the footlocker, I don’t rely on them but having a focus helps, especially with difficult healings and I have a feeling that this will be difficult indeed. I hope the ancestors will lend me their aid, I could sure use it right about now. 

As I close in on the crib, I spot our guest sitting in a fetal position scratching idly at some sores on his throat and staring blankly at the wall opposite to the tent flap. Has he even noticed my presence I wonder? His eyes are getting hazy, like they were last night… what a horrible burden he must bear.

 

 

*

*             *

 

 

          I have to get out of here before I lose my mind to this hunger completely. I have to get out while I’m still coherent. I have to… blasted itch it’s maddening!

           Allright, so, I get out and then I what? What was I doing before? Last night after Cersei dropped me off her saddle… and left with my things… damn bird! Yes, Cersei, her duffle bags! I have to find her! My supplies are with her, and the relics, mhhmm, sweet, juicy mana filled relics. I need them so badly it hurts… and itches… and burns…

          My vision is all blurry at the edges. Who am I kidding? I won’t be able to get out of this dress let alone go out wondering about, looking for my lost strider… Cersei you traitor, you left me for dead! If I ever get my hands on you, I’ll… I’ll… bah, never mind! I’m going to slowly lose my mind as I wither away here and if I’m lucky, the cow people will put me out of my misery and not keep me as some wretched on a leash. Oh, I can picture it now, a bunch of tauren with a ghoul on a rope tied to a tree in the backyard. The big black bull yelling at the brown stupid one “ Nurisipa honeybear, who’s gonna’ water Floppy when we’re away  on vacation?” “Oh it’s ok sweetheart, we’ll leave him a whole bucket, it’ll be enough for a couple of days.” Stupid itch, I can’t even have morbid fantasies of my somewhat demise…

          I don’t want to

I hear rustling behind me and tentative footsteps. Sun I hope it’s not the brown one, I’m miserable enough as it is! Gah! The itching, I’ll tear my blasted skin off!

Whoever it is starts rummaging about shuffling noisily. 

A large gray muzzle emerges from the side. Oh goodie, it’s the silver one, come to poke and prod at me some more and she’s holding a bunch of feathered, brightly colored logs. Go away, I don’t want to deal with this right now. I don’t want to deal with anything! Not that I can with all the maddening itching and the head ache and… and…

Why does the universe hate me? Why does it want my kind stamped out? How much more can we endure? Let go of my hand woman, I’m trying to scratch here!

          “Stop doing that to yourself little one, you’re drawing blood.” She says with a look of concern on her face. Pah! Don’t you think I’d stop if I could? Besides, it’s my blood, I can draw as much of it as I damn well please! You wouldn’t be able to stop if your skin was on fire either! That’s it, let go. Good girl! Leave me to it.

She starts shuffling about behind me some more and then I feel it… mana. Sweet delicious mana! She’s trying to heal me… HAH! Fat luck with that! Our greatest healers, masters of their art have tried their best against this. It’s not a disease you can wiggle your fingers at! It’s a bodily need. Like you need food or water, I need freaking mana! Oh, I can feel hers behind me, it sings to me in such a dulcet tone.

 NO!

I will not do that again! I can’t lower myself to that level once more, like some base animal! If it is my time to go, then I will go out with whatever dignity I have left.

Oooohm!

Stop it with the spellcasting, you’re making this incredibly difficult you cow! Uh, the trembling is so bad I can’t even scratch the itch anymore! This is cruel! This is all so, so cruel!

          Maybe… a little sip, I’ll just have a little tiny, Hah! ‘Tiny!’ sip. She won’t even notice, I swear I’ll stop in an inst….. ohhh! Her little toys have mana too, she pours it into them. They’re sticks… mana filled sticks! They won’t mind if I have a little sip. Sticks can’t mind. They’re sticks! They don’t feel pain! GIVE ME YOUR MANA, STICKS!

          Once more the effect is instantaneous, the burning abates, the itching stops, for once, and my thoughts start to clear. Yes, this is working.

The tauren begins to wobble on her feet then falters and falls on her rump.

          “I don’t remember this ever being so difficult. Ancestors what am I doing wrong? Your totems are so hungry, I can’t seem to keep them sated.” She exclaims, anxiety and exhaustion tinging her tone.

What a giant self-deceiving sack of shit I am… Noooo, I won’t drain living beings anymore, I’ll drain inanimate object filled by living beings with their mana. Dying with dignity my ass! Why can’t I stop for once? Just once? Curse you Arthas and your Scourge, curse you stupid humans, curse you hypocritical self, curse the whole damn universe for screwing us over this badly! I hate what this has done to me…

A pair of hands steady themselves on the hammock and I feel my host peering down at me. “You’re not scratching anymore! And those pustules seem a bit improved. Could it be you’re feeling somewhat better? Whatever I did must have worked in some small way. Give me a minute and I think I can continue.” She says while rubbing her temple in circles with a massive finger, a deep frown of pain  mars her elderly face.

What is it with these people? I’m hurting them and they’re still trying to help me? I’m a bloody leech sucking away at you woman, can’t you tell? Go ahead and throttle me, I deserve it. I’d do it myself if I could and spare us both the misery.

She gently puts a hand on my shoulder and says “All right, let’s try that again.”

She concentrates and manifests her mana on her hands, green swirls of power erupting at her fingertips right in front of my eyes. She directs those energies straight at me as if she’s trying to infuse me with her power, as if she were offering it to me… willingly.

I begin to drain her mana, slowly this time, with as much care and control as I can, spare her as much suffering as possible. I don’t want to be a monster but this is torture. Resisting the hunger in front of such a feast is nigh impossible, her power provides a subtle balm to the emptiness inside. Her magic weaves about me and the throbbing in my sprained leg abates.

 My heart swells for her selfless gift that she provides, the gift of life, plain and simple. I am overwhelmed. My eyes star to water.

          Thank you.

 

          Suddenly her legs fail her once more. “I think that’s all I have for today, I’m sorry. I need to get some air.” She pats me on the top of my head and leaves with her head hunched and dragging her feet.  The hand on her chest is grasping like a claw and her mouth a rictus of hurt.  “I’ll be back little one.” She says through heavy breaths.

 The silence that settles in the tent is perturbed only by the seldom lazy crackling of the flames in the hearth and my quiet sobs.

 

 

*

*             *

 

 

          “Honeybear, the flames are not warm enough for the concoction to brew, could you feed it some more logs please?”

          “Sure thing sweetheart!”

Ah, in a couple of minutes, the ointment should have brewed enough. After it settles and I add the thickener, it should be done. I’ll let it cool down a bit and then see how my patient responds to it. I sure hope it helps. I could hear the scratching in my sleep. My skin started itching too in sympathy.

I should hang the Silverleaf bushels out to dry. Can’t sell damp Silverleaf, it’ll rot away and that is such a shame. The poor bushes gave their life to me, I can’t let them go to waste.

All of a sudden, a pair of burly arms start to encircle me from behind, then a snout joins them as my love starts nudging against me lovingly. I can’t help but kiss her. She kisses me back, a breathy moan escaping her. I cup her face gently with my hand and look her in the eye. My whole world is in front of me. A world of honey and amber. I run my hand through her silky mane and down her side, feeling her sumptuous form. Her hands travel down my body and grabs hold of my belt with a hunger in her eyes.

           “So sweetheart, how about you turn your honeybear into a motherbear? Here comes the fun part!” she says, her voice is all a tease.

          “Nothing would make me happier love.” Boy… it’s getting warm in here. She opens her mouth to tease me some more and… my mother’s voice comes out…

          “Jolonel, son, I think I need some water please. Be a dear and go fetch some from the well. I think I need to lie down a bit, these old bones aren’t what they used to be.” Way to go mom, you did it again… You managed to make this awkward.

Nurisipa’s ears flatten against her head, her whole posture shrinking in on herself. I think if she bit down any further her jaw would crack. She’s the one who answers through her teeth. “I’ll go get it. I think I need some cold water too!” Frustration is oozing in her tone as she gives me an exasperated look then huffs and leaves the shed.

          “Thank you dear, don’t be long now.” yells my oblivious mother. I know she doesn’t do it on purpose but she manages it every damn time. We should’ve gotten her another tent. Somewhere on the other side of the hill.

Ancestors I’m sorry for being such a brat, she is my honored mother after all but it’s  like she has a sixth sense for this or something.

          “Son, could you come over here for a second?” I put the lid on the balm pot and douse the flames then I finally notice the state mother is in.

By the Earthmother, she’s drained, the ache in her chest having returned once more. I wish she would stop pushing herself like that. I wish she realized she’s not that young anymore. She worries me sick whenever she does this.

          “My arm…” She huffs. “ It hurts when I breathe, like a pressure on my chest…”.

           Her heart is acting up again. Where did I keep the pouch? Ah ,there…

          “Put this under your tongue mom and let it melt. You’ll feel better right away. It’s just like last time. I wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. Don’t you want to meet your grandkid? You won’t if you keep this up. You’re worrying me mom..” It all comes out of my mouth like some hurried gibberish. She takes the dose and gives me a comforting look then closes her eyes and tries to calm down.

She complies with my request then we sit in silence for a while.

          “All better now, thank you dear.”

          “What happened mom?”

          “The strangest thing actually…” She looks off into the distance, gazing at the lake and blinking slowly. “I managed to heal the sprain. It took so much out of me.”

          “I wish you would take better care of yourself” I whine at her.

She gives me an exasperated look. “That’s not the point dear. I’ve done this before. I’ve done it on people with way worse injuries in the middle of combat with greater urgency. It has never been so demanding.” She puts her hands on her knees as if to steady herself. “Our guest’s affliction is not of a physical nature. I am sure of that now. We are in over our heads my boy. This is a curse of some sort…I managed to fix his leg but nothing else.” She makes a small pause to draw breath. I wait for her to continue.

           “When I was healing him, I felt an endless void, a hunger of some sort lapping at my connection with the spirits. The voices of the ancestors became muffled.”

          “What do you think we should do mom?” I have no skill in dispelling curses and hexes. My healing powers come from what nature is willing to give. Such an affliction sounds unnatural. No wonder nothing I did worked.

          “I will commune with the water spirits tonight and ask for their wisdom. In the meantime, perhaps we should seek the aid of others more skilled in hexes. Perhaps the healers from the other continent have seen this sort of thing before. I want you to go to Thunder Bluff and fetch the apothecary. Curses are something the undead are proficient at.”

I shudder at the thought, despite my best intentions I’ve never been able to stomach them. I know it’s not their fault they’re sort of dead, but… it’s so unnatural. Not to mention their services cost a bit too much if you ask me. What do you do with money when you’re dead? It’s not like you buy food or something. And they don’t seem to be interested in clothing either, not that it matters to them since they don’t really seem to care about that sort of thing.

 I’ve never charged a dime for healing a person in need, it seemed wrong to do so but “wrong” has never bothered the undead before.

          “What are you thinking of my son?” She breaks me out of my reverie.

          “You know the apothecary’s services don’t come cheap. I don’t know if we can afford it. The last batch of herbs only sold for about sixty silver. I’m still paying Stronghide for the tent…

          “Don’t we have some of those gadgets your blue friend keeps leaving about? Perhaps some of them could fetch a hefty copper or two…” He’s not leaving them about mother, I’m buying them off him to help him get by.

          “I’ll have to go see exactly how much we have mom.”

 

 

*

*             *

 

 

          I needed a cold swim. A very, very cold swim.

Everytime! Every damn time! Ancestors, it’s hard to get your groove on with our mother in law doting about. I should head on home with the water though. I think I’ve cooled down enough… for now.

          Hm, the ointment should be ready by now. I hope Jolonel didn’t leave the lid on. It can’t congeal if the lid won’t let the water out.

Mother Swiftsinger is stretching her feet in on the bench next to the tent entrance, waiting for the water I was supposed to bring perhaps. I wouldn’t have taken so long if not for the desperate need for a cold bath… to … cool off a bit… you know…

I hand her a cup and she thanks me absently, her mind is miles away. Shamans have the strangest moods I swear.

          “Where is that lovable son of yours mother?” I ask her, trying to break the awkward silence.

          “Inside dear, he’s inside. You should go help him. You know he’s bad with numbers. You should go give him some pointers. Hopefully they’ll stick this time.” That was out of the blue… What are they up to I wonder?

Once I get past the tent flap, the sight of all our worldly goods strewn across the floor assaults me.

          “Sweetheart, what’s with all of this?”

          “We don’t need a horn sharpener do we honey? Who sharpens their horns anyway?”

          “Love, why are you trying to sell Jijelan’s trinkets? Did Chaw ask for his next payment ahead? I told him that if he tries to strongarm you when I’m away I’ll maw his hide off.”

          “No honeybear, that’s not it. Mom said we need the apothecary’s help and you know the dead people are cheapskates.”

          “Oh, that…, that’s what all this is about. So I take it neither you nor mother Swiftsinger can grab this by the horns, so to speak.”

          “Hilarious pun aside honey, mother thinks this is a curse, not an illness. The undead ought to know more about this stuff, it’s what they are best at anyway.” The hair on his mane stands on end as he shudders.   


          “The horn sharpener goes then, so does the self-lighting fire thingy. The last time we used that we almost lit our entire winter supply of kindling on fire.” He agrees and puts it to the side.

          “Don’t sell it for less than 15 silver” I tell him. “Hmm, perhaps I should go with you, you’re terrible at haggling sweetheart.”

          “I know honey but you can’t explain the illness to the apothecary in medical terms, you know that and I can’t leave mother alone right now. Her heart is acting up again.” He gives me the most pleading look with the giant puppy eyes and I’ve never been able to say no to that before.

          “Okay Jolo, I’ll stay and keep an eye out at home but you have to promise me you won’t sell the horn sharpener for less than 10 silver. I know it’s useless to us but it’s a funny trinket and some frustrated bull out there might want to impress the ladies. Find the right customer for each thing. Maybe you could ask Jijelan for some help while you’re in Thunder Bluff.”

          “I don’t want to ask him how to sell his inventions love. He’s so proud of them… It might hurt him to know we’re discarding them.”

          “Sweetie, he wants people to use his stuff, that’s why he invents things all the time. HE wants to feel useful.”

He looks to the side and nods. He doesn’t fully agree with me but he doesn’t want to argue either. I should just leave it at that.

          “The self-writing feather sweetie, how about we sell that?”

          “I wouldn’t really call it writing… but I guess a child could play with the floating plume…”

          “That’s the spirit!” I look about the house for some more non essentials that we could pawn off when I notice our guest is up and as non-jittery as I’ve seen him so far. He’s looking straight at us with his almond shaped puffy eyes all wide and his ears fully erect for a change. He looks like a hawk scrutinizing the prairie. He seems a lot better, no scratching in sight also, nothing on fire yet. All is well… for now. I should get the balm before it spoils. I didn’t spend all morning brewing it to throw it all out… after I make sure my husband doesn’t sell half the hut for a silly mushroom from those shifty dead people of course.

          “Honey, do we need a self-propelled shovel? The rockets on it could catch a fair price…”

          “ I never understood why you let Jijelan sell that to you in the first place. Why a pair of druids would need a rocket powered farming implement is beyond me.”

          “You know he needed money to settle in his new home. This was the most practical of his toys love.”

          “He should run a gag shop… some of those things are hilarious…. NOT the back scratcher love, I need that!”

The elf coughs as if to get our attention. He opens his mouth as if to say something but decides on sighing instead. I wonder what this all looks like to him.

          “Since I’m going to the Bluff, is there anything you wanted me to get while there honey?”

‘Nothing we can afford right now’ I think to myself…

          “I don’t need anything love, I have you.” Jolonel gives me the dopiest of smiles and a quick peck on the forehead.

          “ I should be off honey, I’ll be back by noon”.

I follow him out of the tent to watch him go. As funny as the duffle bags look on his hunched back, they settle in nicely once he assumes his stag form. I wave him off. I sure hope he makes it back today.

Since I’m out, I should fetch the balm. 

 

 

*

*             *

 

 

          What in the Sun did just happen?

Are these people for real? Are they really selling their meager things to help the strange addict they just found lying about in the bushes? I felt like shit before but now, now I feel like shit to the superlative. I have literally become shit. I am shit incarnate.

I couldn’t even work up the nerve to tell them to stop.  An apothecary is pointless, they’re selling everything to get a pointless.

I’m a cowardly. Piece. Of. Shit.

           “Okay birdie, I have a fresh batch of ointment juuust for you and your crazy scratching” Nurisipa says while walking in. “This should numb those nasty sores riiiight up”. She’s coming towards me and I don’t think I like the look in her eyes. They are a family of healers though, what’s the worst that could happen? I suppose I owe it to them to behave.

She fetches some bandages from somewhere in the whole mess of the room and then she sits by the hammock with a pensive expression about her. She starts miming how to put the ointment on and then scratches then mimes no. “No itching, YOU. GO. NUMB!” She tries to explain while yelling at me. Why people think that shouting something makes you understand a foreign language better is beyond me.

If you don’t speak taurahe, you don’t speak loud taurahe either… just a thought Nurisipa. I wish you stopped shouting. My hearing is very sensitive…

          “It’s so cute how your ears wiggle like that.” Here we go again…

Thankfully she shut up and starts spreading the ointment on my arm. Huh, it does numb the sores but the smell, ough, it’s something else. She starts wrapping the bandages on the freshly treated wounds. “Let’s see how you scratch through that!” She adds to herself.

She is gentle I’ll give her that even though she’s manhandling me like a ragdoll right now, I can tell she’s not using any force behind the motions. She’s allowing me the decency to comply. I appreciate that. She’s more gentle with spreading the goop than she is with a spoon.

Once she’s done turning me into a mountain of bandages I’ll probably scratch through later, she begins to clean up the place and starts putting things back all while humming to herself.

          “I sure hope he won’t be gone for too long. I hate sleeping without my husband, the furs feel so empty you know?” I do, trust me I really do…

          “I know you can’t understand me, but with him away and mother Swiftsinger off communing with the water spirits or something… I just feel alone. The tent is all empty. That hardly ever happens”. I know a thing or two about empty houses…

          “Although” She looks at me sheepishly. “I don’t want to seem like a bad daughter in law but I wish she were away in her spirit trips for a few nights in a row when Jolo’s here… if you know what I mean.” She wiggles her ears and eyebrows suggestively… I really shouldn’t be hearing this… please talk about something else…ANYTHING else…

          “Some intimacy wouldn’t hurt. I do want a baby but me and my sweetheart are never alone you know? Not unless we’re out in the woods gathering herbs. But I don’t want to be a cliché! I mean, druids having at it in the woods? The gossip that would float around... this is a very small tribe…”

Stop it woman, I’m picturing it, and I don’t want to be picturing it… and now, well. Now I really can’t un-see that…

          ”You know what the bad mouths say about us druids and our shapeshifting? You don’t want to know what they’ve been saying about us two when they think we can’t hear them.”

That’s right! I don’t want to know woman. I already know a lot more than I’d ever wanted to…

          “Jhawna would gossip that we turn into animals and do it like that, oh sweet Earthmother where does she get these outrageous ideas?!” She continues talking to herself while sweeping, thankfully without giving me a second glance. My cheeks are bursting with embarrassment.

          “…she did offer some interesting pointers but I don’t think I can get my knees to bend like that…”

Please, please, PLEASE STOP! Merciful SUN please make her talk about anything else. Anything at all.

          “Ah, I needed to get that off my chest. I guess the fact that you can’t understand me made it all easier to admit out loud. I’ve been holding that in for some time now.” She drops her broom and approaches.

          “Little buddy? Are you alright? Is it the shakes again? Are you cold? Let me get a look at you.” No, no, no no…

          “You’re all red, even the ears, I hope you’re not allergic to the ointment. Damn, I should have checked on a patch of skin before smearing you with it. I always forget these little details, that’s why I leave the healing to Jolonel and his mom. Are you breathing ok birdie?” She starts undoing the bandages on my left arm then scratches her chin in perplexity. 

          “That’s strange, no swelling, just the flush.” And then she makes the connection. Her expression of worry transforms into one of absolute fury.

 

          “You’re not having an allergic reaction, are you?” Huff “you’re just mortified because you actually understood every single embarrassing, stupid, intimate THING I’VE JUST SAID RIGHT?” She’s fuming.

          “What the hell is wrong with you? You perv! Why didn’t you say anything? Or drop something, or throw something at my stupid head?!?”  She’s right, I should have said something, I just…

I wish I had the strength of character to say I’m sorry for being a coward and for being indiscreet. I’m sorry for being a freeloader. I’m sorry for leeching you good people because of my weakness but all that finds its way out of my parched throat like a strangled dry murmur is:

 

           “I’m sorry.”

 

It seems to mollify her a bit, but not completely. Her ears are flat against her head the corners of her mouth drawn back, her nostrils wide and her posture is hunched. “I.. You..Ugh!”

She turns around and stomps out of the tent.

 

          Way to go Soranis, making friends again I see.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic. I am not a native English speaker so if you notice any mistakes or typos or heavy handed unnatural expressions - I'm open to suggestions and criticism. Actually, I welcome it. I would welcome any feedback.


End file.
